


Parks and Recreation/Harry Potter crossover drabbles

by stillscape



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:33:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillscape/pseuds/stillscape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles, starting with "Leslie Knope and the Sorcerer's Stone." This is a WIP, currently complete through "Leslie Knope and the Order of the Phoenix." Chapters 1-5 are rated G; chapter 6 is explicit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Leslie Knope and the Sorcerer's Stone

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Livejournal.

The summer of her eleventh year, Leslie Knope awoke bright and early one morning—well, really, it was still dark—to find a large brown owl staring at her. Which was weird, but also kind of cool, because Leslie loved owls a lot. 

“Hi,” she said, a little uncertainly—for some reason she couldn’t explain, she felt like the owl would understand her—and it hooted softly, through the stiff, heavy, wax-sealed envelope in its beak. 

Inside was a letter that Leslie didn’t understand at all. 

“Oh, honey,” sighed her mother, when Leslie showed her the inexplicably odd letter, “there’s something you don’t know about your father, something he really wanted to tell you himself, before he died…Leslie, your father was a wizard, and you’re a witch.”

***

On the Hogwarts Express, Leslie met another first-year girl. She hoped they’d be sorted into the same house, because even though she didn’t understand how Ann Perkins hadn’t read _Hogwarts, A History_ yet, she just knew they were going to be best friends forever. 

Halfway through the journey, a small, skinny boy with messy hair slid into their compartment and collapsed in one of the seats. He looked grumpy. 

“I really like your shirt,” Leslie offered. “But don’t you think you ought to change into your robes now?” 

The boy stared at her for a moment, apparently puzzled, then turned to stare out the window. 

Ann shrugged. 

The compartment door slid open again, and a handsome older boy wearing robes and a prefect’s badge stuck his head in. “Ben Wyatt, there you are!” he exclaimed, smiling broadly. “You disappeared before I could finish telling you all the rules of Quidditch. It is literally the most exhilarating sport in the entire Wizarding world. I do hope you’ll consider learning to play. As I was saying before, you have an excellent build for a Seeker.”

After the older boy finally left (following a disappointed lecture about the number of Chocolate Frog wrappers scattered about the compartment), Ann turned to Leslie and whispered, “He’s really cute.” 

Leslie made a face and turned to the messy-haired boy, who was still staring out the window. “Well?” she demanded. “Are you going to say anything?”

He continued to say nothing, so she called him a jerk. He finally left them alone. 

Later that evening, Leslie got sorted into Gryffindor, while Ann became a Hufflepuff. Crap on a broomstick. At least the annoying boy from the train got sorted into Ravenclaw, so she wouldn’t have to see him all the time. 

And then, at the end of the feast, she discovered treacle tart. 

Leslie was going to _love_ Hogwarts.


	2. Leslie Knope and the Chamber of Secrets

The worst thing about trying to brew Polyjuice Potion was that _Most Potente Potions_ warned, repeatedly (in blood-red letters that Leslie was fairly sure were actual blood), that sugar absolutely could not be added. This potion was going to taste dreadful. 

But, as she’d argued to Ann and Ben, students kept getting attacked and she was sure it had something to do with Dexhart. They just had to get into the Slytherin common room to spy on him, and she’d know for sure…

She pushed the lavatory door open. Ben was already in there, chatting with that stupid, horrible, annoying ghost. 

“Hello, Leslie,” said the ghost, pleasantly. 

“Hi, Shauna.” Leslie turned to Ben, grabbed him by the robes, and dragged him into the closest stall. “What are you talking to her about?” 

“Nothing,” he said, throwing up his hands. “Nothing important. Just school gossip, you know…” 

Leslie glared in Shauna’s general direction. “Stupid Snivelling Shauna,” she muttered. The last thing they needed was a ghost friend. “Where’s Ann?”

“I don’t know.” Ben swallowed. “Listen, Leslie, on the way here, I thought…I thought I saw another snake in the walls.” 

Oh, _great_.

“But maybe it was nothing,” Ben continued. “I mean, no one else is seeing snakes, right? Sometimes I think I need glasses.” 

Ann burst in, then, triumphantly clutching a few hairs. “Is it ready? I have the Slytherin hairs.” 

“Ann, you beautiful Norwegian Ridgeback. Did you have any problems?”

“None at all.” She rolled her eyes. “Jean-Ralphio and Tom will give you anything if you just bat your eyes a couple of times.” 

“And I have Joan’s hair,” Leslie said, pulling a small phial from inside her robes. 

Ben looked concerned. “How’d you get that?” 

“Remember when I may have tried to punch her at the dueling club? She left this on my robes.” 

“So we’re ready?” Ben asked, and both Leslie and Ann nodded. 

But they weren’t quite ready.

Snivelling Shauna’s face peered through the stall door, as their argument over which one of them would have to turn into Jean-Ralphio became increasingly heated.

***

“I’m not sick, I just have allergies,” Leslie whined. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because they took Lauren, and we’re the only ones who can save her—we have to get ready for the Chamber of Commerce, Ben!”

“Secrets,” Ben corrected, placing a hand on Leslie’s forehead. “Yeah, no, you’re burning up and I’m taking you to the hospital wing…”

And he did—but as soon as Madame Pomfrey’s back was turned, Leslie grabbed an extra dose of Anti-Vomiting Potion, bade farewell to beautiful Petrified Ann, and snuck down to the girls’ bathroom, where she found a very frustrated Ben trying to speak Parseltongue to the faucets.


	3. Leslie Knope and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Leslie had, of course, signed up for all the new subjects offered to third-year students, but she was most excited about Care of Magical Creatures. It was outside, and she loved being outside. She also loved Muggle animals (except for raccoons and maybe turtles), and she was sure she’d love magical animals just as much once she got to know them. And, of course, she adored Professor Swanson, even if he’d spent most of her first two years yelling at her for “being too enthusiastic.” 

Ann and Ben seemed a little more skeptical about the whole endeavor—Ann was much more interested in Divination, which she thought sounded “exciting,” and Ben seemed to be looking most forward to Arithmancy. But Leslie would convince them Care of Magical Creatures was the best new class. She had no doubts of that. 

“Shut up, and listen to me!” bellowed Professor Swanson, when they arrived at the designated meeting spot at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. (Leslie wondered where his cabin was—no one seemed to know—but she kept her eyes trained on Professor Swanson.) “This is Care of Magical Creatures. I hope you’ve all purchased your required supplies for the course.”

All the students held up their yards of canvas. 

“Good. Now. First lesson. We’re going to start by studying hippogriffs—”

Over in the cluster of Slytherins, Tom and Jean-Ralphio visibly cringed. Tom held up a hand. “Professor, look, aren’t hippogriffs kinda—you know—dangerous?”

“He’s got a point,” Ben muttered in Leslie’s ear. “Hippogriffs are kind of scary.”

“Shut up,” she whispered back. “Professor Swanson would never put us in a dangerous situation.”

Professor Swanson’s eyes swiveled to them. “No talking!” he bellowed. “Right. Mr. Haverford, you’ll meet the hippogriff first. Everyone, this way!”

They followed him into the woods, through about twenty yards of trees, to a small clearing. And in the clearing was—

Everyone gasped. Everyone but Ben, that was. 

“Li’l Sebastian!” Leslie cried.

Ben squinted. “What is that?”

“Ben! He’s only the best, most perfect miniature hippogriff the wizarding world has ever known.” 

Ben ran a hand through his hair, which stood even more on end than usual. “I don’t get it,” he said. “It’s kind of a small horse’s body with an eagle’s head.” 

But before Leslie could reiterate with a thirty-point list of all the reasons Li’l Sebastian was magnificent, they heard a shriek, and looked over to see Tom on the ground, writhing in pain. 

“Son,” said Professor Swanson, sternly, “I told you, you have to show the hippogriff respect. Bow to him before you approach.” 

Tom held up his hand. _Wimp_ , Leslie thought. He was barely even bleeding. 

“I hurt my fingie,” he sobbed. 

Professor Swanson gestured at Jean-Ralphio. “Hospital wing."


	4. Leslie Knope and the Goblet of Fire

“Okay, but what did Ben say when you asked him to go to the Yule Ball with you?” 

Leslie made a face. “He was just like ‘uh, uh, bleh,’ and then he walked into a classroom that wasn’t his.”

“There’s got to be an explanation,” said Ann. 

“Maybe he already asked somebody. Or someone asked him. Ann, be honest. Do you think Shauna asked him? She’s always liked him, you know that—”

“I’m _sure_ Ben isn’t going to the Yule Ball with a ghost.”

“He’s been so weird since I got chosen as school champion.” 

“I know,” Ann sighed. “But he’s worried about you, Les. I am too. That first task? None of us thought you were going to be able to debate the dragon like that.” 

At that moment, Madame Pince hustled them out of the library. Leslie checked her watch. Crap. It was curfew time.

“See you tomorrow,” she said, glumly, as Ann headed back to the Hufflepuff common room and Leslie climbed the stairs up to Gryffindor. 

As soon as she climbed through the portrait hole, William and Elizabeth pounced on her. “Leslie,” said William. Ugh. Just because he was a seventh year, and a prefect, he thought he knew so much more about being school champion than she did. “Have you solved the clue inside the golden egg yet? Elizabeth and I have been polling the other advanced students about their favorite charms and minor curses, and—”

Thank god he’d given her an opportunity to get out of the conversation. Leslie had liked having the two older Gryffindors on her side at first, but she was really starting to regret agreeing to let them run her Triwizard preparations. 

“I’m about to get cracking on it right now,” she said, heading for the stairs. They didn’t react. “Cracking. An egg. Get it?”

Clearly, they didn’t get it. Crap. Neither of them had a sense of humor. 

She pulled the golden egg from her trunk, and placed it on the bed, but before she could open it, the curtains on the next four-poster bed swished open. 

“Hell no, you are not going to open that thing,” said Donna. “I need beauty sleep.” 

So Leslie put the egg back, pulled her own curtains shut, and stared at the tapestries, trying to make sense of something. Anything. 

***

Two days later, she was on her way back to the Gryffindor common room after dinner when she heard someone hiss her name from inside one of the classrooms that never got used. 

It was Ben. He was perched on the edge of one of the desks, looking nervous. 

“What do you want?” she asked, closing the door behind her. He hadn’t spoken to her or even looked at her since she’d asked him to the ball, and the rejection still prickled. 

He cringed a little. “To apologize.” 

Leslie waited. 

“For—for saying—when you asked—the other day—” 

“Get to the point.” 

Ben took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I made it weird. It didn’t need to be weird. You’re under a ton of stress, and we’ve been friends forever, and…” He shrugged. “I mean, it makes sense. You just caught me off guard.” 

“Oh.” The rejection prickled a little harder. She swallowed. 

They both stared at the floor.

“Okay then,” Ben said. He slid off the desk and walked past her. 

“Who are you going with, then?” Leslie blurted out. 

He skidded to a stop. “Who am I—what?” 

“Who are you going with? To the ball? Who’d you ask?” 

Ben leaned against the door, a look of bewilderment on his face. “I haven’t asked anyone.”

“Well, then, who are you going to ask?” 

“I—”

“Or who else asked you?” Something told her she should probably back down, let it go, but…but she wanted an answer. If he wasn’t going with Shauna (Ann was probably right about that) then it was one of the Ravenclaw girls, probably. Like Rebecca. Stupid, tall, pretty brunette Rebecca. 

“No one else has asked me.” 

“Then why won’t you go with me?” Crap. That was definitely not the right tone of voice for having a dumb argument with your suddenly dumb friend. 

Ben stared back at the floor. Was he blushing? It was hard to tell, in the dim light from the oil lamps, but she thought maybe…

“Leslie, you’re school champion. You can go with whoever you want. So…”

“So what?” 

He shrugged. “So you should ask whoever you want. Don’t just invite me because we’re friends.” And he slipped through the door.

Crap on a Cauldron Cake.

Leslie hurried down the corridor after him, hoping it would be deserted. It was, but Ben was walking unusually fast, and didn’t respond when she yelled his name. She had to practically run after him. 

“That wasn’t why I asked you,” Leslie hissed, when she’d finally caught up. 

He stopped so abruptly that Leslie, trying to halt her own feet, crashed into a suit of armor.

“Ow,” complained the armor. “Watch where you’re going.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Leslie muttered. 

Ben stuck out a hand and helped her up. “Did you…mean that?” 

“Of course I meant that,” she told him. Crap, this had the potential to be embarrassing—but now that she’d started this particular conversation, she might as well see it through. “What, you think that just because we’ve been friends since I rescued you from that troll, I can’t, you know, have…other feelings, too?” 

Ben blinked. Then he smiled.

“So it’s not just me,” he said.

“No,” Leslie agreed. “It’s not just you.”

Then he kissed her. 

The suit of armor gave a loud wolf whistle. 

“Shut up,” Leslie said, quickly elbowing it in the chest plate. 

“So,” Ben asked, with a little smirk, “am I still invited to go to the Yule Ball with you?”

“Of course.” 

He was about to kiss her again, she thought, when Peeves the poltergeist flew around a corner and bounced to a stop in front of their faces. “Curfew,” he said, with a nasty sneer. 

“My common room’s this way,” Ben said, looking dismayed, and crap, sometimes she hated that he was a Ravenclaw. 

Leslie turned a different corner. But instead of continuing to the Fat Lady, she glanced around to make sure Peeves wasn’t behind her. He wasn’t. She shook the Invisibility Cloak out of her bag, threw it over herself, and hurried down to the first floor, where she banged loudly on the Hufflepuff common room door until someone finally answered and went to get Ann. 

***

On the afternoon of the Yule Ball, Leslie, Ann, Ben, and a handful of other students enjoyed a rousing snowball fight on the grounds. It ended early, much to Leslie's dismay; she was definitely winning when Donna showed up at sundown, looking stern, to drag her up to the common room to get ready.

Since they still weren't sure whether Ann, as a Hufflepuff, was allowed in the Gryffindor common room, they snuck her in under Leslie's Invisibility Cloak, and the three girls spent the early evening in the dormitory, experimenting with hair potions and makeup. The makeup made Leslie feel a little odd, but Donna assured her it looked fine, and Ann's Hair-Curling Charm had certainly done wonders. She needed to learn that one herself.

The full effect was pretty good, she thought, contemplating her floaty blue dress and flower earrings in the mirror, where they sparkled in the dormitory's candlelight. Ann would be the most beautiful girl at the ball, of course, but--Leslie gave the dress a quick twirl--this was nothing to complain about, and she very much doubted that Ben would even notice Ann. 

"Are we ready?" Ann asked. Both Leslie and Donna nodded. "I can't believe you're going with Viktor Krum, Donna."

"Don't be. I went to Bulgaria with my parents last summer. I could have done very well there, if they'd let me." Donna raised an eyebrow. "And you, girl. Cedric Diggory? Nice one." The two high-fived as they climbed out of the portrait hole and headed down to the entrance hall to meet their partners. 

"I'm just glad we all get to sit together at the high table," Leslie said. "I still feel weird talking to the other champions. They're so tall."

As soon as they reached the entrance hall, Leslie was proved correct. Somehow, the other champions looked even taller in dress robes. Fleur Delacoeur, who was on the arm of the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, Nick Newport Jr., was wearing heels so high Leslie was sure she herself would never even be able to stand up in them. 

Her earlier suspicion was correct, however. Ben, who had been so focused on her descent down the staircase that he did not appear to have noticed Fleur was within mere feet of him, didn't notice Ann either, until Ann coughed pointedly and spoke. "Hi, Ben." 

"Oh, hi, Ann," he replied, apparently startled. Ann rolled her eyes, and stepped off to greet Cedric. She was, Leslie noted with pride, much more beautiful than Fleur. 

Now that they were all here, and the ball was about to start, Leslie felt unusually giddy. She tried to contain herself. School champion, she reminded herself, and comportment, but that didn't keep her from bouncing a little bit on the balls of her feet while she took in Ben's handsome blue plaid dress robes. Ben had not, as she had, succeeded in potion-ing his hair into submission. It still stood wildly up at the front. She liked it that way, though. 

"You look nice," she told him, although she wasn't sure he'd really heard her. "What do you think of the dress?" She did her little twirl again. 

"It...uh, it..." Ben swallowed. "Looks really, really good." 

Professor McGonagall began organizing them for the grand entrance. They lined up behind Donna and Krum, and Ben took her arm, which sent a tiny thrill down her spine. 

"Ann charmed my hair," Leslie said. She definitely felt too excited to not talk, now. "It wasn't too much work. I might try to do it myself, another time." 

"It's really nice." 

Just then, Tom appeared. He had not, Leslie noted with some satisfaction, succeeded in finding a date for the evening after Ann had repeatedly turned him down, and appeared to be partnered with Jean-Ralphio. He gave her a quick appraisal. "Not bad, not bad," he said. "You almost look not gross. But Ben, those robes are terrible." Jean-Ralphio nodded in agreement.

"Shut up, Tom," Leslie said, but she didn't really care. 

***

Dumbledore peered down at his plate. "Pork chops," he said, clearly. A few seconds later, pork chops appeared. 

This would make much more work for the house-elves, Leslie thought, but Dumbledore didn't seem too concerned, so...

"Waffles," she told her plate. "With extra whipped cream." They appeared almost at once, crisp and golden brown. 

Ben asked his plate for a calzone. 

"Now you're embarrassing me," Leslie said. Although...she kind of wanted to kiss him anyway.

He nudged her under the table, and she grinned and nudged him back.

***

"Wait." Ben dragged his heels. "You didn't tell me--we have to open the dance?"

"I didn't tell you because you were right there in class when McGonagall told me," Leslie pointed out. "I thought you heard."

"I did hear. I conveniently forgot." He looked a little flushed. "Leslie, I don't know how to do this." 

"It's okay," she assured him. "I'll steer. Just don't step on my feet."

Ben didn't--in fact, Leslie thought, he would be fine if he would just relax. 

Unfortunately, the minute the floor opened to all the couples, Jerry Longbottom, who was partnered with a surprisingly pretty girl from Beauxbatons, somehow managed to land directly on Leslie's big toe.

"Oh, sorry. Gosh, Leslie. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she said, although it felt like her foot was going to fall off. 

***

After a few more dances, the Great Hall felt uncomfortably warm. Even butterbeer wasn't enough to cool off. 

"Want to take a walk?" Ben asked.

She nodded. "Let me just tell Ann where--oh, never mind, they're still dancing." Cedric was really very good. "Let's just go." 

They snuck into the entrance hall, which also felt very warm. 

"Want to go look at the ice sculptures in the courtyard?" Leslie asked. "I bet they're extra pretty at night." 

Outside, the winter air was chilly, but Leslie kept her hand clasped in Ben's, and that part of her, at least, stayed warm. 

Suddenly, a shriek came from behind a giant ice unicorn, and Leslie and Ben both jumped and pulled out their wands. 

"Unhand me!" called a female voice, and then a dark-haired Ravenclaw girl darted out from behind the unicorn. 

"Madame Snakehole, you'll never outrun Bert Macklin, Department of Mysteries!" yelled a boy. Leslie thought she recognized his voice...

A moment later, Andy Dwyer bounded out from behind the unicorn as well and caught up to the girl, who grabbed him around the collar of his dress robes and began kissing him, furiously. 

"Good lord," Ben muttered. "Can we go somewhere more private?" 

Leslie was starting to get a bit chilly, but she agreed, and they walked down a quiet path, to a stone bench that was nicely away from the light. She tried to sit on the bench, but it was icy cold, and she quickly jumped back to her feet, slipping a bit in her low heels. 

Ben threw out an arm to steady her, and she grabbed it. "Thanks," she said, breathlessly. 

Even though it was very dark, the look she saw on Ben's face made her heart flutter. He didn't let go of her arm, but drew her closer to him. 

Her heart beat faster. Ben didn't seem to know what to do next, though, so after a few moments she decided to help him out. They were alone; this was taking far too long. 

"So are you going to kiss me or what?"

He nodded. "If you want?"

"Uh-huh." 

His hands slipped into her hair, and for half a second, Leslie wondered if Ann's Hair-Curling Charm would hold up. 

Then she decided she didn't care. 

Ben, she decided, was very good at kissing. Not that she had ever kissed anyone else, of course, but this seemed...right, all of it. 

Until she heard a single boot crunch into the snow behind them.

"Miss Knope." The words were a slow, oily drawl. "Mr. Wyatt." 

Leslie turned her head and saw, as she knew she would, a curtain of greasy black hair hanging limply on either side of a large, hooked nose. 

Crap on a Sneakoscope.


	5. Leslie Knope and the Order of the Phoenix

Leslie swallowed, trying to keep Ann and Ben's encouraging words in the front of her mind. 

_It was self-defense. You're allowed to use underage magic in self-defense. Dumbledore isn't going to let the Ministry expel you. Just stay calm. You did the right thing, saving Lindsay's soul._

If Lindsay had even had a soul in the first place.

She wished Ann and Ben could have come to the Ministry with her, or that Sirius could have, or Remus, or Tonks. Or Dumbledore. Or her mother, who--Muggle or not--was bound to be formidable in a battle over education. Any companionship would have been preferable to that of her current escort. 

"I'm so sorry you have to go through this, Leslie. It is literally the most stressful thing I can imagine for either of us."

"It doesn't have anything to do with you," Leslie muttered. Chris really needed to stop bouncing down the halls, she thought, and he needed to stop acting like her trial was affecting him. He was only Junior Undersecretary to the Minister, and she hadn't even talked to him since he'd left Hogwarts after her third year, so why was he taking this so personally? The giant Calming Draft he'd quaffed in the elevator clearly wasn't helping. 

Chris bounced her into a large chamber room, and Leslie gulped. She knew that room. She'd seen it in Dumbledore's Pensieve. The room was less full than it had been for Barty Crouch's trial, but she still cringed at the number of witches and wizards seated around the perimeter. In the center of the chamber was a large, heavy chair, which--thankfully--did not appear to have chains. 

That morning, before she'd left, both Ann and Ben had assured her that they would be thinking about her the entire time. As Leslie lowered herself into the oversized chair, she scanned the room's perimeter, looking for something that would remind her of them, like a portrait or a carving or--

But the walls weren't decorated. 

She slipped one hand inside the pocket of her robes, and squeezed the tiny model hippogriff Ben had given her that morning. It gave her finger a soft nip.

All she could do was tell the truth, however unbelievable it might sound. 

Dumbledore glanced down, but didn't make eye contact with her. 

***

Ethel Beavers finally dropped Leslie off at Grimmauld Place with a grumpy sigh, and Leslie slipped through the front door, exhausted but relieved. She found Ann just inside the entrance, waiting with an enormous best friend hug that nearly sent Leslie flying into the troll's leg umbrella stand. 

"I knew it," she said. "I knew you wouldn't be expelled." 

And Ann swept her downstairs, into the kitchen, where Ben and most of the Order were waiting to celebrate, with butterbeer and Leslie's favorite treacle tart. 

When the group finally dissipated upstairs, to do some more cleaning before dinner, Leslie hung back and made sure she and Ben went up the stairs last, together. She wanted a moment alone with him, or as close to alone as you could get in the overcrowded headquarters. 

"How was your day?" she asked.

"I've had better." 

Leslie stiffened. " _You've_ had better?" It wasn't a competition, she reminded herself.

"Well, yeah. I was worried about you." 

"You didn't think I'd get--" She huffed. "I'm capable, you know." 

He took a deep breath. "I'm on your side," he pointed out. 

Leslie took a deep breath, too. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I didn't think you'd be expelled. I just...I was worried anyway."

She nodded, and bit her lip. They'd made it up to the landing now, their footsteps echoing softly on the old wooden staircase. Surprisingly, the house seemed completely deserted. 

"I mean," Ben continued, "honestly, I can't imagine being at Hogwarts without you there." 

The tiny model hippogriff, still inside Leslie's pocket, flapped its wings. She decided to take that as a sign. She and Ben hadn't had more than a few seconds alone together all summer, and now they were alone, so she quickly threw her arms around the back of his neck and pulled his head towards hers. 

It was a brilliant move, or would have been, if he had resisted enough to keep them both balanced. But Ben had clearly had the same thought at the same time, and his momentum was already headed in Leslie's direction. 

Arms wrapped around each other, they crashed into the portrait of Sirius's mother. Its curtains flung open, throwing them both to the floor. 

" _Mudbloods! Traitors!_ " screeched Mrs. Black. 

Leslie automatically pointed her wand at the curtains, but Ben grabbed her wrist. "Are you crazy?" 

"Crap on a cauldron." She put her wand away. 

Ben stood up. "Come on," he said, offering her a hand. "Let's get out of here before someone comes to shut her up." 

They ran up the next flight of stairs, where Ben threw open a door Leslie had never been through, and pulled her into a dark, dusty room. Well, she thought, as Ben lit a candle, this house didn't have anything but dark, dusty rooms. And this one seemed unusually private...

"Filthy mudblood children, bursting through doors uninvited. What would my mistress say?"

So much for privacy.

"Kreacher, go...help with dinner or something," Leslie ordered, trying to sound authoritative, although the house elf had never once obeyed her. He shuffled slowly out of the room, glaring back at her, and left the door wide open on his way out. Leslie could see Tonks thundering down the stairs towards the portrait of Mrs. Black, her wand out. 

"Hello, you two!" she called, cheerfully. 

Leslie turned back to Ben, who was clutching at his forehead. 

"Come on," she said, giving his upper arm a squeeze. "We'll be back at school soon enough. I got the Marauder's Map back from Moody--well, the fake Moody--and it's bound to be useful..." 

Ben smiled, and followed her out of the room.

***

“Umbridge isn’t going to teach us anything,” Leslie complained as the three friends stomped through the courtyard. Today was the worst. The weather had finally turned cold, with a light snow dusting the grounds, so outside was fairly unpleasant—but now that Umbridge had been named High Inquisitor, there was really nowhere to talk inside the school. Not unless they went through the horribly complicated business of sneaking into each others’ common rooms. So here they were, freezing their butts off during breaks, almost totally unprepared to defend themselves in the event of a Dark wizard attack.

Ann hurried to catch up. “That class really is useless.”

“And we’ve got O.W.L.s coming up,” Leslie added. “How are we supposed to pass Defense Against the Dark Arts if we don’t know how to do any spells?”

“Well, _you_ know how to do most of the spells,” Ben pointed out. “You were doing all that stuff last year, for the Triwizard Tournament.”

“Fat lot of good that’s going to do; I haven’t been able to practice in—”

Ann threw out a hand, grabbing Leslie’s arm. “Les, that’s it.”

“Huh?”

“You teach us. You teach us all the spells. We need to know self-defense, and Umbridge isn’t going to teach us, and I know we talked to Ron about helping out but he can’t behind Umbridge’s back, he’s a teacher…”

Ben raised an eyebrow, looking thoughtful. “That’s actually a really good idea.”

“No one’s going to want to listen to me, though.”

“Yes, they are,” Ann insisted. “Leslie, you know what you’re doing, and the rest of us need to learn. We should organize this.”

Could she do it, though? Did she really know enough magic to teach her classmates? Behind Umbridge’s back?

“Ann and I will help,” Ben said. “But you should do it. Someone has to. You’re the best candidate.”

The bell rang, and the three friends turned back towards the oak front doors.

“I’ll think about it,” Leslie muttered.

Neither Ann nor Ben brought up Ann’s idea again until the next Hogsmeade weekend. They waited, Leslie realized too late, until after their usual Honeydukes visit, when she was sure to be well sated with sugar and consequently in a better mood.

“Let’s go to the Hog’s Head instead of the Three Broomsticks,” Ann exclaimed, tugging Leslie down a grim alley.

“Are we even allowed in there?”

“Sure we are,” Ben said. “We checked.”

Inside the Hog’s Head, they found a very foul assortment of downtrodden witches and wizards, and one customer that Leslie suspected very strongly was a hag. The barman, a tall, elderly, bearded wizard, glared at them from behind cloudy spectacles, but said nothing. Ann ordered butterbeers, and they sat in the back corner.

Leslie flicked a spider off her cloak. “Guys, this place is creepy and gross. Why are we here?”

“Because we need to talk about the Defense Against the Dark Arts stuff again,” said Ann. “Look, we’ve been asking around our houses, and Donna’s been casing Gryffindor, and—well, I think you’ll be surprised at how many people want to learn defensive magic from you, Leslie.”

And to Leslie’s astonishment, Ann was right. Within minutes, they had been joined not only by Donna and Jerry from Gryffindor House, but by the entire Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Quidditch teams, by several of Ann’s fellow Hufflepuffs, including Andy Dwyer and his friend Burley, by the dark-haired Ravenclaw girl Andy was dating and her weird, pale friend Orin—and even two Slytherins, Tom and Jean-Ralphio.

So apparently they were going to form a secret Defense Against the Dark Arts task force, as soon as they figured out a name and a location.

The dark-haired Ravenclaw girl, April, solved the first problem. “We should call it Dumbledore’s Army,” she said. “Because that’s the Ministry’s worst nightmare, isn’t it?”

“Great work, April,” Leslie said. They’d filled several scrolls of parchment with ideas, and she felt totally energized now, in a way that was more substantial than the energy she got from Honeydukes’ best sugar quills.

As they left the Hog’s Head, Ann and Leslie chattered on about finding someplace in the castle that was big enough for two dozen students to secretly practice defensive spells. It wasn’t until they were almost back to the Hogwarts grounds that Leslie realized Ben was being awfully quiet.

“Are you okay?” she asked him, and he shook his head.

“That Orin kid,” he said. “He just started Divination this year.”

“So?”

“So he’s really good at it.”

Leslie blinked. “So?”

“I think he knows how I’m going to die.”

“Divination’s a load of bunk,” she assured him, but he still looked a little freaked out.

But that, at least, was a problem Leslie could solve easily. Once they got back inside the castle and Ann had headed off to the Hufflepuff dormitories for dry shoes, she pulled Ben into an empty classroom, where she made him forget all about Divination and defensive spells and—well, everything except kissing her, really. 

***

Leslie, Ben, and Ann came to a stop in the sixth floor corridor, and Leslie turned to assess the wall hanging. “Okay. That’s the tapestry, right?”

“Good lord,” Ben muttered. “What is that?”

She threw him a slightly withering look. “Haven’t you read _Hogwarts, a History_ yet?”

“No point,” Ann chimed in. “You’ve got it memorized.”

“That tapestry,” Leslie said, ignoring Ann, “is called ‘The Trial of Chief Wamapo.’ It depicts several Dark wizards who traveled through the American Midwest. Er…their encounters with the native Muggles didn’t go very well.”

“I can see that,” said Ben. “Look, if you can do Stunning Spells, or the Body-Bind Curse, or Avada Kedavra—which the Dark wizards clearly could, because they’re doing all those things—is there really any point in also tying your enemy to a tree and pointing a cannon at him?”

She shook her head. “No, but Dark wizards were very thorough in the 1800s. Anyway, this is where Dobby said we should walk back and forth. Everyone think about needing a place where twenty of us can practice defensive magic without Umbridge finding us. Just…put it out there.”

Ann and Ben nodded, and together, they began walking back and forth. On their third pass, a door materialized. Tentatively, Leslie pushed it open. 

The Room of Requirement was everything Dobby had assured her it would be. Part of it resembled the outdoors: a large, grassy knoll was in one corner, with a wrought iron bench, the wall behind it painted with a beautiful wildflower mural. Another corner had book upon book of defensive spells. She also spotted potion-making equipment, several large, squashy chairs, and…

“I’m never leaving this room,” Leslie declared. “Ann, Ben, look. It has a waffle bar.”

“That,” Ben observed, “is the most whipped cream I’ve ever seen.” 

Ann looked doubtful. “I thought the room was supposed to give us what we needed, not what we wanted. You don’t need waffles to practice defensive magic.”

“Yes, we do. Jeez, Ann, Defense Against the Dark Arts is tiring. We’re going to need a ton of whipped cream to get through this.” 

***

A few weeks later, with a few meetings under their belts, Dumbledore’s Army was looking good—well, except for Jerry Longbottom, who still couldn’t aim to save his life. The upside was, most of the members had gotten very good at casting Shield Charms to protect themselves from Jerry’s errant spells, while simultaneously defending themselves from their own dueling partners. That, Leslie reasoned, had to be a good thing. 

Today, though, they weren’t dueling. Today was the day she hoped at least a few people would finally cast corporeal Patronuses.

She demonstrated a final time. “Expecto Patronum!” she called, pointing her wand at the wildflower mural, and her owl burst forth and soared around the grassy knoll. It finally came to rest on the bench in front of the mural, where it fluttered its wings. “Like that,” she said, with a pleased smile. “Donna, you first this time.”

Donna nodded and aimed her wand. “Expecto Patronum!” A cloud of silver smoke flew from her wand. A moment later, it had formed into a leopard, which ran swiftly towards Leslie’s owl, chasing it from the bench. Everyone cheered. Donna merely smiled, made a small curtsy, and stepped back. 

Jerry went next, and produced only smoke, as usual. Leslie patted him on the back.

Andy’s cloud of silver smoke wasn’t quite an animal yet, but everyone agreed that it was clearly going to be a golden retriever, when he could finally get it to be fully formed. Orin’s wand produced an indescribably weird animal that he claimed was a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, even though those didn’t exist. Leslie thought he might just not have mastered the spell yet. April made a chameleon, which stared at them all through its large, creepy eyes. Its skin, though silver, took on the pattern of the bookshelf behind it. 

Tom, much to Leslie’s surprise, made a perfectly formed peacock, which strutted over to the bookshelf. Apparently he was surprised as well, as he immediately jumped into Jean-Ralphio’s arms, shouting “Did you see that? Did you see that swagger?” Jean-Ralphio failed to produce anything, even silver smoke. Leslie suspected he hadn’t been practicing at all between meetings. She wasn’t terribly shocked. 

Ben, who had already produced several corporeal Patronuses during private study sessions with Leslie, rolled his eyes at both Tom and Jean-Ralphio, squinted thoughtfully, and… “Expecto Patronum!” Out burst his hummingbird. 

Tom howled with laughter. “That’s it? That’s what’s going to fight a dementor for you?”

“Yes,” said Leslie, vehemently. Ben was flushing pink, a bit. She knew he was still a little embarrassed about his Patronus. Well, everyone hoped for a big, tough animal, didn’t they? But she’d looked up the mythical properties of hummingbirds, and discovered that ancient Aztec wizards believed them to have great vigor and energy, and a propensity to do work, as well as, er…they’d both agreed, when she had shown him the hummingbird mythology, that they weren’t ready to think about the rest of those attributes yet.

In any case, Ben had argued that, considering hummingbirds never stopped working and survived on sugar water, her Patronus really ought to be a hummingbird. She kind of agreed with that assessment, but she liked her owl too much. Besides, hummingbirds were very, very cute. Especially hummingbirds with slightly ruffled feathers, which Ben’s Patronus had. Maybe, she’d suggested, that was why she liked him so much. 

Then they’d kind of forgotten about Patronuses for a while…

Leslie shook her head, snapping herself back to reality. “Ann, your turn,” she said, brusquely. Ann had yet to produce a fully formed Patronus, but Leslie just knew that today was the day. 

Ann nodded, aimed her wand, and said “Expecto Patronum!” in a clear, commanding voice. A silver animal burst from her wand tip and…

Swam? 

It was definitely swimming.

Ann looked confused. “Leslie, what is that? Did I do it wrong?”

“No,” Leslie breathed. “It’s perfect. Ann, your Patronus is a beautiful tropical fish.”


	6. Leslie Knope and the Sexy Little Hummingbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First-time fic. At Hogwarts. This chapter is explicit. And much longer than a drabble.

Leslie Knope sat on the edge of her four-poster bed, waiting impatiently for dusk to fall. It seemed as though the evening would never come. She’d done all her homework, written six inches of a Transfiguration essay past what Professor McGonagall had asked for--not her usual extra effort, but she was _distracted_ \--and was absent-mindedly changing her old Charms textbook from blue to red to blue again when she finally heard a soft tapping at her window. 

She looked up to see a familiar beaked face on the other side of the pane. Quickly, she jumped up from her bed and unhitched the latch. A small brown owl flew in, landed on her pillow, and extended his leg, to which a small scroll of parchment had been tied. 

"Hi, Dr. Buttons," she said, giving him a quick scratch on the head before she untied the scroll. "Do you want some Owl Nuts? Hedwig hasn't finished all hers. I think she's out hunting. Or in the Owlery. I guess you'd know better than I would, huh?" 

Dr. Buttons hooted softly, dipped his beak in her glass of pumpkin juice, and took off into the sunset. Leslie watched him for a few seconds, then shut the window before more frigid January air entered. She knew Donna would complain about it, when she came upstairs. 

Although Leslie was alone in the girls’ dormitory, she hid herself behind the curtains of her four-poster bed before turning her attention to the scroll. Carefully, she untied the twine, broke the wax seal, and unrolled the parchment. The surface appeared blank, but she knew it wasn't really. She tapped it gently with her wand, mouthing a word without speaking it aloud, and Ben's small, neat hand appeared.

_Leslie, are you sure? I mean, I'm game if you are--you know I want to. But so many things could go wrong. We could get caught, by teachers or ghosts or (Merlin forbid) Stephanie. Or April. Or--I mean, I guess getting caught is really the only thing that could go wrong. But it could go really wrong. What if people notice we both missed dinner?_

_I’ll just see you later tonight, I guess. We don’t have to do anything. We’ll talk about it then. You know what? I shouldn’t be writing this. Dr. Buttons could get intercepted. Am I being paranoid?_

She could hear the words in her head, in Ben’s voice, as clearly as if he’d sent a Howler (which, thank goodness, he hadn’t). 

Leslie wasn’t embarrassed about her decision to...well...do adult things with her boyfriend. She was seventeen now; they both were. As of today, she was legally an adult witch, and if she could use magic outside of Hogwarts then she could do other adult things too. That didn’t necessarily mean she wanted other people to know she was doing them. Ann knew, of course. But not the whole school; she didn’t want the whole school to know, and Ben was right; there was always the risk of getting caught...

She tapped Ben’s scroll again with her wand, making the words disappear, and rolled it tightly so that it would fit in her pocket. Then she squared her shoulders, marched to the mirror, and gave her hair a little fluff. A borrowed spritz of Donna’s best scent seemed in order, too, though she coughed at the cloud that emerged from the little dragon bottle. Hopefully Ben wouldn’t mind that she was wearing her Hogwarts uniform. (He would be wearing his too, she reminded herself.) Hopefully he wouldn’t mind what he saw when she wasn’t wearing anything at all… 

“Hi, Leslie,” she told her reflection. “It’s your birthday. You deserve this. It’ll be great.” Though she’d made the decision weeks ago--months, really--her reflected self seemed a little unsure now that the time had come. “I love you. Bye.” 

And she slid out of the dormitory before her reflection could suggest chickening out. Out of the dormitory, through the Gryffindor common room, and into the hallway she marched, keeping a confident spring in her step, as though she was merely off to Quidditch practice. 

She had planned this. They both had; they had planned it together, Ben turning all sorts of interesting colors as they worked out the details. But Leslie in particular had planned this part of their relationship very thoroughly. She had earned extra credit in Muggle Studies for her anthropological field trip to a Muggle lady parts doctor, and she had items that Muggles used for...safety stashed in a small red bag that was hidden in the sleeve of her robe. She also had a potion that Ann had secretly brewed, also for safety (it wasn’t against the rules to have it, just...frowned upon, perhaps). And she’d loaned Ben her Invisibility Cloak, so he wouldn’t have to try not to look suspicious as he made his way to the Room of Requirement. 

_I need a place where Ben and I can be alone_ , she thought, walking back and forth. On her third trip past, a door materialized. She pushed it open with a loud _creak_.

“I’m not up to anything--oh.” Ben had leapt to his feet, hands raised in protest. She could tell he was nervous. He looked sweaty, and his hair was sticking up, and that was all of him she could see because he’d forgotten to take the Invisibility Cloak off all the way. 

“Hi,” she said, shutting the door firmly behind her. 

“Hi,” he echoed. “Um, happy birthday.” 

Leslie took a look around the Room of Requirement. It wasn’t exactly what she had envisioned it would transform into for their first time, but it was comfortable enough. The room was much smaller and cozier than usual. A handsome four-poster bed was centered against a wall, crisp clean sheets folded over a comfortable-looking coverlet. The sight of it made Leslie’s heart thump all the way up into her throat. She decided being straightforward would have the greatest effect. 

“Come on,” she said, crossing over to the bed. “I want presents.” She took out her small red bag and placed it on the bedside table, then waited. 

“Oh. Well, actually, uh…” She heard swishing from under the Invisibility Cloak, and Ben’s hands emerged, holding a few small boxes. “Which one do you want first?” 

Leslie took a deep breath, crossed the room again, grabbed her boyfriend by the wrists, and dragged him over to the bed. “You. I want you first.” She took the boxed gifts and set them on the bedside table.

Ben flushed pink, but he looked pleased. “Okay,” he said, leaning into kiss her. 

It was a bit odd, Leslie thought, making out with what appeared to be a floating head and two floating arms. Not that she usually kissed Ben with her eyes open, but sometimes she couldn’t resist sneaking a peek. 

She slid her own hands underneath the cloak, letting them find his waist, then his butt. Ben opened his eyes only when she pinched him. 

“Hey,” he said. “You-- _hey_.” 

Leslie grinned. “I can put my hands in your trousers and no one can see.” 

“I should probably take the cloak off.” He pulled back and started fumbling, but Leslie shook her head. 

“No, let me,” she told him, and she pushed him down on the bed. “This ought to be fun.” She tugged at a sash, loosened a cord, and slid her hands under the shoulders before pushing the cloak away from Ben’s back. It puddled on the coverlet, and the rest of him became visible, robes and all. 

They folded the cloak neatly, and set it aside before Leslie hopped on the bed too. Both of them pulled off their shoes, and then their outer school robes. The robes they also folded and placed on the side table. 

“Well,” said Ben. Leslie watched him tap his fingers against his thigh for a moment. Then, swiftly, he swooped forward, pushed her onto her back, and placed himself over her. “Okay?” A slight look of concern passed over his brow, as though he couldn’t quite believe his own boldness. 

“Uh-huh.” 

His nose looked funny from this angle, Leslie decided, so she pulled him down and kissed him, letting her hands run up and down his arms. A moment later, she was fumbling with the knot of his Ravenclaw tie while he fumbled with the knot of her Gryffindor one. She was quickest to pull the knot free--Ben had already loosened the tie, as he usually did after classes ended--and she flung it aside. The time for neatness, she thought, had passed. That, and she couldn’t sit up from this angle. Ben had to stop kissing her for a minute to finish with her tie; when he had pulled it loose, he didn’t bother folding it neatly either, but threw it in the corner somewhere in the vicinity of their shoes. 

A few minutes later, Leslie began to feel restless on her back, and rolled out from underneath Ben. He sat up, and she came onto her knees, which put their heads at more or less the same height. 

They had felt each other up before, of course--in the Hogwarts corridors and grounds, in empty rooms at the Perkins residence and in Grimmauld Place, in the back alleys of Hogsmeade, and once, even, on the back patio at Florean Fortescue’s ice cream parlor. Ben’s chest was familiar territory to her, though it was still exciting, and she was no stranger to the sensation of his hand on her breast. But they had always had an eye or an ear out for someone coming, an awareness of the fact that it would be all too easy for another student or a house-elf or even Ann to happen upon them, and for that reason, they had never ventured underneath each other’s garments, whether Wizarding or Muggle. 

Now, however, she felt the palm of his hand, cool and smooth, against the skin of her stomach, and trembled slightly with the pleasure of it. 

“You’re warm,” muttered Ben, and Leslie agreed; she was far too warm, and there was only one thing to do about it. Soon they were both engaged in a wrestling match with her jumper. It wasn’t long before one or the other of them succeeded in pulling it over her head. Ben immediately set to the buttons of her blouse, and though it was tempting to try to help him in this as well--or to begin wrestling with his jumper--she took a deep breath and remained still until the last button was undone. 

Then she decided she couldn’t wait any longer, sat up, and shrugged the blouse off completely. She paid close attention to Ben’s face as she let the blouse fall away. First she watched his mouth: his tongue had been between his teeth as he’d concentrated on the buttons, but now it relaxed into half a smile. Then she followed his eyes, which drifted all over her before he pulled them up to meet her own. 

“Sorry,” he said, sounding a little guilty. 

“Ben, you’re allowed to look.” 

He nodded, took a deep, ragged breath, and pushed her back against the sheets for more kissing. 

Ben didn’t move his hands to her breasts right away, although she kind of wished he would. Instead he started by cradling her neck and shoulders as he kissed her. Then he moved one hand lower, so that it rested on her collarbone. He moved his other hand, using it to support himself, and kissed down her neck to where his fingers rested. He slid two fingers down the center of her chest, over the tiny beige ribbon rose that decorated her regulation uniform bra and lower, and followed his touch with more kisses, dry and soft against her skin. 

She twitched, and opened her eyes (which she hadn’t realized were closed) to find Ben grinning at her. 

“So this is okay,” he said, tapping his index finger on the bottom of her ribcage. 

“God, yes.” 

“Oh, good.” He kissed where his finger had just tapped. Then his hand found the smallest part of her waist, and squeezed gently. 

“Ben.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Your shirt.” 

“Oh, right.” He sat up and started unbuttoning. 

Leslie sat up too. “No, no,” she said, swatting one of his hands away. “I want to do it.” 

His shirt was off in what she imagined was record speed, and pushed her hands under his cotton vest, willing it to come off in record speed too. Ben obligingly twisted himself out of it, and then--before Leslie quite knew what was happening--they had moved on to joint removal of Ben’s trousers and her skirt. In between garments, they kissed more; he finally cupped a hand around her breast, and she found her own hand going down the back of his pants before they’d gotten his trousers all the way off. 

“I think I’m going to like your butt even more this way,” she said. Ben responded by pulling at the clasp of her bra. He succeeded in unhooking it quite quickly, in fact. Impulsively, she shimmied out of her panties and socks in one go, and there she was, finally: in front of her boyfriend, in her altogether. 

‘Merlin’s pants,” breathed Ben. 

“All right, then?” Leslie didn’t wait for an answer; she simply went for his pants and tugged down the elastic waist until he snapped back to attention and peeled them off, along with his own socks. 

Though she was well acquainted with male anatomy in the academic sense, and though she’d felt Ben’s through his clothing plenty of times, as he’d pressed against her in corridors and greenhouses, she had never--she now realized--seen a penis in the flesh before. It stood at attention, more or less, and whatever momentum they’d acquired slowed to a halt. 

After half a second of contemplating how weird it was (and the other parts, those were even weirder--but it looked like it would fit inside her, and that was the important part), Leslie was struck with an overwhelming desire to touch it, and she began moving towards him. But Ben, apparently, had other ideas. He caught her hands, held them tightly, and leveraged her down onto her back again. 

“Hey,” she said, in between two kisses. 

“What?” 

“I was going to…” She trailed off, suddenly unsure if saying _penis_ out loud would break the mood. 

“I know,” he said. “I really want you to.” 

“So let me.” 

Ben shook his head, and she recognized a familiar stubborn set to his jaw. “Not yet.” 

“Why not yet?” 

“Because,” he said, now sounding exasperated, “it’s too soon.” 

“I don’t think there’s a set order for this.” 

“Well, no,” he admitted, “but…” Finally he shook his head. “Yeah, you’re right. We should do whatever we want.” 

Leslie grinned. “I want to touch you,” she said, flushing warm at her own words. 

Ben was still more or less on top of her, though, and as soon as he released her hands, he moved to her chest, and took one nipple lightly into his mouth. 

“Oh,” she said, quietly. “Okay.” 

As good as that felt, though, she was only able to wait for a few minutes before her hands moved from where they’d been resting on Ben’s back, to his sides, to his hips, and finally down in front to his mess of hair and all the other interesting stuff. 

He twitched so hard that for a moment, Leslie was afraid he’d just seen a ghost, or maybe Dobby. But then she realized he was just reacting to her touch. 

“See, I told you,” she said, experimentally wrapping her fingers around him. ‘Wasn’t I right?” She tried to pay attention to the sensations in her own body, to the way holding Ben made her hips push closer to his body, made her lady parts pulse in rhythm with her heart. 

“Good lord, I didn’t--I mean, I didn’t think you’d be _wrong_ ,” he sputtered. 

“So I was right.” 

Ben groaned, in a way that made her insides feel extra squishy. “We should have done this a long time ago.” 

“Scoot,” she ordered. “I wanna be on top.” 

It took some finagling, but soon they had figured out an ideal setup, one in which she could reach everything she wanted to reach (except his butt; that was the disadvantage to having Ben on his back) while they continued to kiss. In this position, Ben had both hands free, and he took full advantage of it, continuing to caress her breasts with one while the other traveled lower and lower, until he’d reached the one place he had never even come close to touching before. 

Ben’s finger produced such a jolt of power that the whole world temporarily stopped. 

“Crap on a hippogriff,” she whispered, closing her eyes. ‘Wait. Did you stop? Don’t stop.” 

“Really?” She could hear a pleased smirk in Ben’s voice. Mercifully, he continued whatever it was that he was doing. “A hippogriff, Leslie?” 

“Shut up and keep doing that.” 

He leaned up and kissed her. “Okay.” 

A few moments later, she pulled Ben’s hand away, climbed to the side of the bed, and began rummaging around in her little red bag. 

“You’re ready, right?” she asked, as her fingers closed around a square foil packet. 

Ben nodded. “I think so. I think getting started was the weird part.” He paused. “I think.” 

“You know how to put this on, right?” 

He nodded again. “We went over this.” 

“I know,” she said, “but this is the part where we really do have to be careful.” 

She handed him the condom, which he slid under the pillow. 

“That’s not where it goes,” Leslie protested, reaching back for it. But Ben grabbed her wrist, blocking her. 

“I know where it goes. Good lord.” 

“So--”

“Not yet,” he said, patting the other pillow and raising his eyebrows. Realization of what he wanted to do first struck Leslie like a Bludger to the gut, and she grabbed Ben and kissed him as hard as she could, thrilled beyond words not only that her boyfriend wanted to make this the best possible experience for her, but that he really, truly, had a plan. And even if it was a little weird to think about, his head between her legs, she wanted to know what it felt like. 

After all, she thought, as Ben kissed down her stomach in preparation, if his fingers felt that good down there, then his tongue… 

He took a tentative, experimental swipe, then another, and she twitched. 

“Okay?” 

She shook her head. “Too soft. That tickles.”

“‘Kay.” 

A few more adjustments had to be made, but soon enough, Ben had discovered a pressure and rhythm that made her tingle and throb. 

“You keep stopping,” she groaned. “Don’t.” 

“Leslie, I have to breathe.” 

“No you don’t. Next time--” Oh, god, they were going to do all of this again, definitely, as soon as possible-- “next time get gillyweed or something.” 

Ben paused, and she felt him shake his head, but he didn’t say anything. She could guess what he was thinking, though. Gillyweed wasn’t a great idea. For one thing, even though she wasn’t sure exactly what was going on down there, she probably wasn’t _that_ wet. For another, Ben would be much less attractive with gills and webbed toes. 

Then she lost her train of thought. Everything went fuzzy around the edges, but also sharper, and she held her breath and pushed against his tongue. She’d been hit with a spell, that was what it felt like, some kind of spell she’d never heard of and couldn’t name, a spell that made her body tense up for a moment before everything released and left her limp on the pillow. She had, possibly, yelled something, but she wasn’t positive. 

Ben appeared next to her, then, rubbing his scalp, his face pink. “Merlin’s pants,” he said. “Was that--did you--”

“I think so.” She thought about it for a moment. Had she really? She must have. “Yes. What else could that have been?”

“I don’t know.” 

She lay still for a moment. The spell hadn’t quite left her fingertips or her toes, yet. Or her lady parts.

“Ben.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you,” she said, putting as much honesty into the words as she could. 

He smiled, leaned over, and kissed her. The kiss tasted odd. Like her, she supposed. 

“Happy birthday, Leslie.” 

She smiled, wished for pumpkin juice, and realized (as pumpkin juice materialized on the bedside table that didn’t have clothes on it) that she still had some birthday experimentation to do. After a quick restorative swig, she assessed the situation and determined that it was Ben’s turn to be shoved down onto the pillows. 

“Ready?” she asked. She was pretty sure he nodded, but she didn’t bother waiting for a response before she started kissing down his chest. She wasn’t going to take this too far, she told herself. Not that she knew what _too far_ would be--when she would need to stop--but she would, she assumed, figure it out. 

Ben had gotten soft while he’d been busy with her, but it took only a few experimental tongue moves for him to perk right back up again. He gripped her shoulder with one hand as she got to work. It was all very strange, the sensation of him in her mouth. Teeth were something she probably needed to figure out sooner rather than later. But, she decided, this was very enjoyable, because _Ben_ was enjoying it, and she liked that she could make him twitch and moan as he’d done to her. 

“Wait,” he gasped suddenly, digging into her shoulder with the tenacity of a Chinese Fireball. She took it as the cue she’d been waiting for, sat up, and reached under the pillow for the condom, which Ben took from her and unwrapped. It went on quickly and smoothly. “So,” he said. “How do you want to do this?” 

“I guess you could be on top,” she said. She’d read that that wasn’t necessarily the best way for witches, but it seemed like a good starting point. 

Ben nodded, and they quickly arranged themselves. 

“Ready?” 

She nodded. “Ready.” 

“Okay. I just have to find--”

“Here, let me.” She reached down to guide him. 

“No, I can do it, I--oh, wait. _Oh_.” 

Oh indeed, Leslie thought, as Ben pushed in. She could tell he was being careful at first, but everything seemed to be proceeding smoothly, and though she felt a bit...stretched, perhaps, it wasn’t painful. 

“That’s good,” she said. “That’s really good. You can, uh...you can go faster. Or harder. Or faster and harder, you could do both--” 

Ben ducked down to kiss her. Whether it was because he wanted to kiss her just then or whether it was a signal to stop talking, she wasn’t sure, but either way she decided it was an appropriate time to find out if she could reach his butt from this position. 

She couldn’t, quite. Her arms just weren’t long enough. But that was okay. All of this, she decided as things started to go fuzzy again, was entirely okay, and she started to move her body slightly, shifting her hips one way and then the other, to see how much of a difference it made. 

“There we go,” she said out loud, after tipping her hips up in time with Ben’s motion produced a very pleasurable result. 

“Yeah?” 

“Uh-huh. Keep doing that.” 

“I don’t know how long…” Ben started, just before she got the idea to try squeezing everything together. 

This move, she discovered, had the somewhat undesirable effect of causing Ben to gasp and go rigid in one big final thrust. On the one hand, she thought, she wished things had gone on a bit longer. On the other hand, she’d hit Ben with the same spell he’d used on her, and he was clearly enjoying it so much that she couldn’t possibly be disappointed. 

He said nothing after pulling out. He just collapsed on the pillow next to her, pulled her as close as he possibly could, and kissed her. 

After that, he seemed to get drowsy, but Leslie--who felt strangely energized--sat up and gave him a good poke in the ribs. 

“You at least need to take that thing off,” she said, gesturing towards the condom. 

Ben sat up. “Right, right. Do you think--I don’t want to use my sock.” 

Leslie handed him a box of tissues that had not previously been on the bedside table.

“We should get dressed,” he sighed, after he’d deposited everything in a dustbin. 

“No,” Leslie said. “I want to stay here all night.” 

He smiled. “Trust me, I do too, but you know we can’t. It’s weird enough that we both missed dinner.” 

“I know. We both missed dinner, and we’re both prefects, and we have to supervise curfew for the first years…” 

“Look…” Ben stroked her all over everywhere once more, as though to convince himself he really had touched her, before he stood up and began collecting clothes. “We will do this again. Very soon. Right?” 

“Right.” 

They dressed, brushed their teeth and washed their faces at a sink Leslie hadn’t noticed before, and then sat down on the bed one last time. 

“You still have to open your other presents,” Ben said, pointing at the small pile on the nightstand. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything else.” But she did love presents, so she accepted the pile and tore into the first, larger one. 

Under the wrapping paper was a paper box that contained an eclair in the shape of an L. “I have to admit that Dobby helped with this one,” Ben admitted. “But I knew we were going to miss dinner, and I thought you might be hungry afterwards…” 

“I love it,” Leslie said, blinking back a few inexplicable tears. “This is perfect.” 

The smaller box contained a locket on a thin gold chain. She opened the locket to find two small pictures. One was of her and Ben, from last summer, when they’d visited a Muggle county fair. Their tiny images waved at her from atop carousel horses. 

“I remember Ann taking this,” she said, running her finger around the edge of the locket. 

The other side held a picture of Li’l Sebastian, a dead ferret clasped in his magnificent little beak, his wings flapping majestically in the wind. 

She closed the locket, grabbed her boyfriend for a deep and prolonged kiss, and rested her forehead on his chest when the kiss was over. 

“Thank you,” she said. She didn’t want to let go of his hands. “This is perfect. Really.” 

She let Ben put the locket around her neck, then tucked it under her robes so none of the teachers would see it. Slowly, reluctantly, they moved to the door. 

“I love you and I like you,” she told Ben. 

He repeated the phase, then kissed her one last time for the night and tried to hand her the Invisibility Cloak. 

“No,” she said, pushing it back at him. “You keep it for now. I think we might need to sneak back up here at some point tomorrow.” 

Ben threw the cloak around his shoulders and pulled the hood near his face. “Dr. Buttons will be in touch,” he said, before he disappeared completely. 

She still managed to give his butt a good pinch before he slipped through the door. Then she checked her watch. It was just past eight o’clock. 

Ann ought to be back in the Hufflepuff common room by now, she thought, and she headed downstairs, racing past the portrait hole, ignoring the Fat Lady’s greeting as she passed.


End file.
